


Bedhead

by Chellodello



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: China doesnt know how to parent correctly, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 17:44:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chellodello/pseuds/Chellodello
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Even after all this time Korea is a delicate child; easy to love and even easier to break.<br/>Or;<br/>Only China can make breakfast in bed depressing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedhead

**Author's Note:**

> I have accepted the fact that if I ever want new fic for these two then I’m going to have to write it myself.

Yong Soo had always been a delicate child, easy to love and even easier to break. 

He never quite understood, or chose not to understand, that being a nation required a thicker skin than being human.  He gave away his thoughts freely, his love even freer. China supposed that was his fault really, he had raised the boy after all.

He was too permissive really.

Korea has invited himself over from breakfast; it’s hardly an odd occurrence. He brings him tea in bed like he had when he was young and barely able to speak. That was thousands of years ago but the elder nation can still see the traces of the unsure footing, the pride on the Korean’s concentrated face when he doesn’t spill. 

Yong Soo is quieter in the morning, more subdued. He hasn’t had a chance to get hyped up on whatever sugared product that he inhales on a daily basis.  He is calm as he will ever be, but still every bit as earnest.

China will never admit that the tea soothes his aching bones as does having someone care enough to visit. Korea has always cared, he doesn’t know how  _not_  to. He is unable to be passive about things when he is concerned.

It annoys him almost as much as it endears him to the peninsula nation.

Yao complains about the hour, complains about him breaking into his house, but Yong Soo just reminds him that he was the one who had given him a key. And he sputters about ungrateful children, but otherwise lets the subject drop.

And when he finally sets the cup down Yong Soo wastes no time in plopping on the bed and wiggling as close to him as he will allow. “Aiyah, get off, you’re not a kid anymore! Have some respect for your elders.” He only puts up a minimal fight though; it was good tea after all.

Yong Soo wouldn’t have gotten up anyway.

They make an odd pair; the Korean was tall and solid, the larger of the two of them by far but he curls into his side as if he were still a child. Yong Soo was nearly two thousand years old, older than most nations alive today, but had never l had the ability, or desire, to leave the metaphorical nest. Instead of growing up and away from him like his brothers and sisters, Korea had stubbornly dragged his feet and never left, not really.

“I love you Hyung-nim.” Korea sighs happily; the words are heavy and moist against the curve of his neck. China swallows thickly. There is no doubt in his declaration, there never has been, never will be. There just quiet resolve that he was right, that his love was not ill-placed.

Yao has raised Yong Soo from near birth; he knows him better than he knows himself. He knows just how easy it is for Korea to say these kinds of things, to mean them. He also knows how easy it would be to brush his feelings off, to kick him out of his home and bed: to break his heart. He knows that he’d take it hard but eventually come back for more; he doesn’t understand how to give up before its too late.

China sighs deeply and kisses Korea’s pale forehead before laying his check against messy brown bedhead, a small concession that that means the world to Korea. “I know you do Yong Soo, I know.”

And he does.

This is not their first morning like this and it will not be their last.


End file.
